Childhood
by allbluewitness
Summary: Light is afflicted by something very unusual, and reaches out to L when no one else can. Slight LxLight, fantastical elements dealing with medical matters. Rated T to be safe.
1. Fall

Hello, everyone! This is my first fic under my new name, rohm274. I used to write under divineria369 (some of you may remember me if you like Phantom of the Opera). Intended pairing is LxLight, and I promise it will be good for fans of FLUFF! Warning, this is SLASH. BoyxBoy. Yaoi. Shounen-ai. Whatever you want to call it. Don't like, get the hell out of here. I own nothing!

Hope you enjoy this first installment of Childhood!

--

Graying sunlight filtered dimly through thickly constructed glass, adding to the light provided by the fluorescent bulbs above. The spacious investigation room felt very empty indeed, the eerie silence accented only by the sharp tang of typing keyboards. The team was hard at work today just as any other day, and each man went about their own particular business in a stoic, businesslike fashion. Aizawa, along with Mogi, filed through papers on the couch in the expansive room's center, while Matsuda poured himself a cup of coffee near the blackout windows. Soichiro worked diligently alongside the team's leader, called by his alias Ryuuzaki, but known to the group only as L.

In his usual curled position, L's round, expressionless eyes searched the screen as if the answer they had long sought after rested within nameless pixels. His typing was quick and purposeful, continuing without breaks for long periods of time. Command after command was efficiently carried out by the high tech machine, which hummed quietly as a new application was opened. Matsuda, having retrieved the cup of coffee he had longed for hours before, now walked back to his computer next to Soichiro's. Just as he was about to take a seat, however, L's typing stopped abruptly, his chair swiveling violently to face his underling. "Matsuda-san," he spoke up quietly.

This single name had been the first word spoken in task force headquarters in over four hours, and Matsuda, being the somewhat nervous man that he was, reacted by jumping back and spilling his precious cup of coffee. Red crept neatly up his cheeks as he stooped to pick up the offending cup, eyes averting L as he stood up again. Aizawa looked up with a stern face whilst Mogi tried to suppress a laugh. Soichiro took one glance at the floor, one to Matsuda, and one to L before returning to work as if nothing had happened. L's face looked painfully empty, putting Matsuda even more on edge. "I was going to ask you to take on the three folders I had just emailed to you, but it seems now you have a different task to handle," L noted accurately. Matsuda opened his mouth as if to speak a reply, but decided against it and simply nodded before hurrying off out of the room to fetch the needed cleaning supplies.

Rounding a corner swiftly, Matsuda ran a hand through his hair, kicking himself over and over again mentally. His face lightened for an instant as he muttered a quick "Hello!" to a figure in the hall before returning to remorse. The figure smiled curtly, taking a brisk pace towards the investigation room. One hand curled deftly around the door handle, turning it and stepping inside. The men looked up from their work; each offered up some form of greeting save L, who hadn't bothered to break his pattern of typing. Soichiro, who was the boy's father, appeared very pleased that his son had come to help work on the case. "Good to see you, Light." he greeted his son.

"Hi, Dad," Light said in return as he walked to take his place at the remaining computer next to L. Much to his misfortune, he failed to notice the coffee that swirled dangerously on the spotless floor. L's dark eyes sparked suddenly; "Light, watch out for th--"

His warning came far too late. Light stepped right into the dark pool, his sneakers lacking the necessary traction to keep him from sliding. His almond eyes widened as his foot skidded erractically, pitching him backwards. The back of his head connected with the computer desk with a sickening thud, and Light slumped helplessly to the floor. A cry of alarm rose up from the men in the room; Soichiro was immediately at Light's side, his hand flying to his shoulder and shaking it forcefully. "Light! Light, are you alright?!" The youth remained unresponsive, his body giving off anything but movement. Still curled in the same chair, L was absolutely frozen, his eyes wide with horror_. _His hearing tunneled out all sound as he remained transfixed on Light's lifeless form. 911 calls were made as the team rushed about in frenzied madness. Soichiro remained at his son's side, clutching him close and biting back tears. No one seemed to notice L's lack of response as each was focused only on their fallen team member.

Matsuda, having heard the commotion, then stormed into the room. It was this and only this that brought L from his trance -- his black hair hid his eyes as he raised his head to look at the door. The young man's face contorted grievously as he realized what had come to pass. "Light!" he exclaimed, rushing to his side. Aizawa gritted his teeth together, unable to hold back as he spat a hateful barb, "Matsuda, this is your fault! You and your stupid, clumsy--" "Aizawa! Enough!"

L's head shot up in defiance as he spoke without raising his voice, but with an intensity that stopped the tall man mid-sentence. The investigation's head held his subordinate's steely gaze for a moment longer before returning his attention to Light. His breath hitched when he noticed a reddened handful of paper towels that Soichiro held at the back of his son's hand; the bunch trembling with all the worry and strife of a parent. L brought a thumb to his mouth, biting it fiercely as Matsuda backed away from the scene, running a hand through his hair. Without turning his head, L glanced his way, feeling a twinge of what he thought may be guilt. _It's not your fault. It's...mine..._

--

A young girl, no more than five or six, watched L curiously as she sucked on a lollipop given to her by a well meaning doctor. Her inquisitiveness was justified, as the small man was curled in a chair, a finger in his mouth. She tugged on her mother's sleeve impatiently, whispering to her why _he_ could suck on _his_ thumb and _she _couldn't suck on _hers._ Her mother reprimanded her sternly, but eyed the man in question surreptitiously. The woman made the most logical conclusion she could come up with -- he must be a patient from the mental wing. They would come for him soon.

Soichiro sat in the chair next to L, his face in his hands as he rigidly awaited a doctor's arrival. The rest of the team had decided unanimously to remain behind and work on the case in Light's absence -- they sent their best wishes. Matsuda apologized excessively to Light's deaf ears as he was lifted onto a stretcher, while the others had remained silent. Feeling somehow compelled to accompany, L had suffered a very uncomfortable ambulance ride with the paramedics and Light's distraught father.

"Mr. Yagami?" came the voice of a sturdy, middle aged man in a flawless white coat. Soichiro stood up violently and without warning, causing the little girl to squeal in shock. He strode swiftly over to where the medic awaited him. L placed a foot neatly on the cool, tile floor, but then decided against it. It wasn't his place to hear this kind of news, he felt.

The doctor's eyes darkened as he spoke in hushed tones, relaying information in a quick an efficient manner. He made his points by pointing to charts periodically; L noted different changes in Soichiro's behavior as he nodded sluggishly, a hand coming up to rest at his brow. L's shadowy eyes darted between the two figures, desperately trying to gauge Light's condition. His eyes narrowed slightly as the doctor suddenly stopped talking and glanced over at L analytically. Feeling exposed, L clutched his knees tighter, but met the professional's gaze without so much as a second thought. The two men then shook hands, and Soichiro followed the doctor out of the room, gesturing for L to follow before he disappeared from his line of vision.

Uncurling himself methodically, L got up to follow the taller men; his slight hunch was cause for some curiousity among the nurses in the hallway, but L wasn't at all bothered. His mind was clearly elsewhere.

The doctor indicated which room belonged to Light, shook Soichiro's hand once more, then crossed the hall to converse with a pair of nurses. Irresolute, Soichiro opened the door to his son's room, leaving it ajar for the dark haired man. Once the detective had rounded the corner to enter the hospital room, Soichiro had already come to Light's side, taking his hand and grasping it firmly. L loitered uncomfortably about the door, closing it, yet feeling unwelcome. He could hear the steady tick of Light's heart as translated through a heart monitor, which came as a great relief to L. From what he could see, Light's head was bandaged, with special attention paid to the back of it. "Ryuuzaki..." came Soichiro's voice, faintly. "Please, come here."

Feeling almost childlike, L conceded, shuffling to the other side of Light's bed and curling up in a chair identical to the one Soichiro now occupied. Bloodshot eyes remaining on his son's peaceful face, Soichiro spoke up in emotioneless tones, "The doctors reached a diagnosis not long after he arrived. I won't bore you with the details of how, but..." the older man gulped, eyes flickering elsewhere before meeting L's eyes for an instant. Stony as usual, L gave no sign of either interest or boredom. Deep within, he longed to know.

The boy's father sighed deeply before going on. "Light has been diagnosed with horosphyxia due to a blow to a certain part of the brain located in the back of his head. I'm not sure if you know what this means or not, but it does mean that Light will not be himself for at least two weeks." L's eyes widened. Horo...sphyxia? How peculiar. He knew he had heard of the ailment before, yet... "Please, go on." he prompted Soichiro quietly. The older man's tired eyes searched his for any source of meaning, and, finding none as usual, he continued, "This means that that part of his brain, which happens to deal with intelligent growth, has, essentially, gone back in time to a different track of function. What this means is that Light will no longer act like the teenager he is, instead, he will act more like he was when he was five or six." Soichiro studied the clean, pressed sheets in front of him for a moment before concluding, "Of course, in a few weeks, that section of his brain will have repaired itself sucessfully, and Light should return to normal. He suffered a large cut on the back of his head as well."

L was thunderstruck. Light would be acting as if he were...six?! His dark eyes pored into the floor as if they held some sort of solution to this problem. The loss of Light's witty intelligence, even for a few weeks, would severely compound the progression of the Kira case. "It's alright, Ryuuzaki," the older man offered. "It's only a few weeks."

Seemingly unaffected by this statement, L turned his gaze to Light's sleeping form. His face was clear and radiant as always, appearing to feel no pain as he dozed on. L's toes twitched in the face of Light's plight. Mesmerized by the racing thoughts of his preternaturally quick mind, he couldn't help but feel that the next few weeks were going to be drastically interesting.

--

Note: Horospyxia is an entirely fictional affliction, as are all its symptoms. I've taken artist's license to create this illness, since it creates a lovely excuse for scenes to follow!

Hope you enjoyed the first installment, and PLEASE rate and review!

Love to your lovelies, rohm274


	2. Mute

Hey, everyone! I'd like to extend a special thanks to InnocentXxXLies, Darkness-Princess-Kit, Barranca, glostarz, deadlyviolin, LordOnEarth, ThePurpleRose, sayuri2023, and for the reviews, and countless others for favoriting my story, favoriting me, and putting me story and me on alerts! I really appreciate it, and it definitely keeps me motivated.

I'll try to update Childhood on a weekly basis from this point on -- I'm on spring break, so I can get more done. Without any further ado, please enjoy chapter two of Childhood, Mute.

--

The noontime hours at Task Force Headquarters were, often times, very similar to its late-night hours in that there was a severe lack of population in the investigation room. The members of the task force were either at lunch, or asleep on another floor of the statuesque building, yet one man had a nearly perpetual presence in the room where they worked. Said man was now chewing thoughtfully on a raspberry truffle as his deft fingers delicately sorted through papers pertaining to his current case. L was thoroughly engrossed in one particular folder when the door to the room swung open. The detective put down his folder in surprise -- Soichiro Yagami had previously been on leave to watch over Light, and L hadn't expected his sudden return after only a handful of days. He studied the older man curiously as he was greeted cordially. He uncurled himself from his chair, asking after the other man's well-being as he walked closer. "Ryuuzaki," Soichiro began, "Could I speak to you in the hall?" The mind of the world's greatest detective offered up no solution as to why the empty hall bested the empty investigation room, so L simply nodded.

The gray streaks in Soichiro's hair suddenly seemed glaringly obvious when the man faced away from L. He began simply, stating facts as if trying to warm up to a more important topic. "All that the doctors predicted for Light's behavior has occured. He is no different from when he was very young, just as expected." With this, the chief of police faced L, his expression pensive as he continued, "There is something that I believe will be a benefit to your knowledge. As a boy, Light, as a person, was worlds apart from who he is now. He spent his days in silence, never saying anything, but being consistently obedient instead. His mother and I wrote him off as mute, as a matter of fact, since he did not speak his first words until just before his seventh birthday." Here the man paused, searching his companion and attempting to gauge his reaction. L's lack of revealing expression came as no surprise to him, yet beneath the surface, L's mind blazed, absorbing the new information with staggering patience. Soichiro went on, "He was very shy...and very reluctant to show affection, especially toward his parents." The older man folded his arms across his chest, staring down at them irresolutely. Midday light glinted off the frames of his glasses. "Of course, it doesn't surprise me that he is distant from me, even now." L remained silent as a bird chirped outside. "I don't know what you know about children...but they tend to attach themselves to people who are similar to them. They enjoy spending time with those who share the same interests, much like any other human. Do...do you understand?" The detective was quick to nod affirmatively. "Ryuuzaki...Light never had friends when he was young. He never had any desire to meet other children, never wanted to be outside, never wanted to play. Understandably, as a parent, this came as a hard blow. His mother and I had to watch as other children grew up vibrant and full of life, while our own son was cold...I...I don't think I could go through that again, even though we're dealing with a few weeks instead of whole years. Which brings me to my point. Ryuuzaki, I mean no offense by this, but you and Light are very similar at present..."

L had guessed at this early on. "You wish for me to...befriend Light in his current state?" Soichiro glanced up, grateful that L had caught on. "Well, yes, that is what I had hoped. Since the day we began working together, I have thought that you and my son were almost one and the same. I understand if you--" "I will try my best, Yagami-san." The black-haired man wasn't one for a lecture on how distant he was from others. Soichiro's posture lightened considerably as he thanked L. "I've brought him with me today, but I'm sure you've already noticed. I felt that it would be prudent to keep Light in the same surroundings he had grown used to before he was injured." L tugged at his opposite shirtsleeve sheepishly, "Light is already here...?" Soichiro stared at him, puzzled. "He's been in the investigation room for over half an hour." The detective paled. So much for making Light feel welcome if he wasn't even noticed when he came in. The older man laughed brightly, "Like I said before, Light was always a quiet boy. Well, if you don't mind, I have a few errands to take care of...I promise Light won't give you more trouble than he already has." With that, he strode down the hallway, adding another quick word of thanks before disappearing into the elevator.

The rangy detective remained rooted to the spot, turning his head to watch the door handle as if it would turn at any moment. He very much didn't want to open that door. He thought himself foolish -- what was he afraid of? He'd solved countless murder cases; the world's greatest mysteries, watched tapes of people's lives ending in the most horrid of ways, and he was faltering before a six year old? L shook his head, warding off the unpleasant thought and correcting himself with his unparalleled logic. No, this wasn't simply a child. This was different; Light Yagami was beyond that steely door. Light Yagami...**as** a child. He stuck his lean hands into his jean pockets, looking upward to the building's high ceiling and letting out a breath in vexation. Logic could not solve the problems of his heart. Still...what was it that he feared?

Deciding to give it no further thought for now, he grasped the door handle with determination, yet entered the investigation room timidly once he had swung it open. A quick scan of his surroundings revealed Light to be lying on a couch that faced away from L at the moment. Hands still in his pockets so as not to give off a threatening appearance, he walked slowly past the couch, stealing a sideways glance at Light as he neared the opposite wall. The boy had his arms tightly curled about his knees, lying on his side as he looked out into the direction L walked in. He had to admit, it looked very juvenile for a teenage body to take on such a pose, yet L stayed aware of the fact that, in this case, the mind did not match its body. "Hello..." he offered quietly as he climbed into his chair in front of his computer. Light stared up at him with wide, curious eyes, clutching his knees with renewed vigor. L's cheeks reddened seemingly without cause as he turned to face the glowing screen. Falling into detective mode, L went straight to work typing up a report on the folder he had examined earlier, his muscles tensed as he realized he was likely being watched. This was a feeling he had grown accustomed to dismissing, but this time, it was very different. Unnerved, he unwrapped a caramel truffle and bit into it in silence, trying to still his frenzied mind. L was about to down a milk chocolate truffle when he heard a soft rustle from behind him. The truffle stilled on its journey to his mouth as he glanced towards the couch. Light now sat up straight, one leg tucked against his body, the other swinging lightly off the edge of the couch. His eyes were fixed on the chocolate morsel L had delicately pinched between his thumb and forefinger. L's eyes darted beyond his hand. The plate of truffles, which had seemed so bountiful beforehand, was now depleted to the one truffle he held in his hand.

Deciding against words for the time being, the slight man merely relocated to the couch, mirroring Light's position on the couch's opposing end. After staring blankly ahead for a few moments, he meekly extended his arm to the side, his palm open with the truffle resting in the middle. The boy shrunk away from the offering, his eyes reverting from the candy to the floor. As the world's greatest detective, L knew countless languages, body language included. Not one to judge, L placed the truffle on the coffee table in front of the couch, and stood up quietly before taking a few steps forward. Light watched his every movement timidly. The black-haired man angled his wiry frame towards Light, offering him a small smile before he climbed back into his chair and resumed his rapid fire typing. He felt somewhat more comfortable this time, feeling as if he had breached some sort of wall.

Within twenty minutes, L had finished his report. He sat back in his chair, thoughtful as he brought a finger to his lips, his eyes flicking to the clock on the computer's screen. The team's lunch break would end in another quarter of an hour, so L had finished in good time. After saving the file and creating a backup, he turned his chair about to check on Light. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile he couldn't suppress. The truffle had disappeared, and Light had fallen asleep, his face calm even though the city outside was vibrant with life.

--

Sorry for the shortness! I promise it won't happen again! I just wanted to give you something to tide you over until I get something really good and long posted up. =D R&R!

Love to your lovelies, rohm274


	3. Crave

Hey everyone! I'm sorry for the ridiculously long wait. What has it been, months? I know. And I'm sorry. Like I said on my profile, things will definitely speed up after this. I'm getting closer and closer to exams, which means closer and closer to summer, where all my free time can be devoted to Childhood! Just think of it!

You all get virtual cake for having to wait so long. Without further ado, here is Chapter Three of Childhood. This first paragraph especially is in honor of my friend Kizu's upcoming birthday, yet the whole chapter is for her!

--rohm274

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was certainly a change from his hospital behavior, L thought drolly. While surrounded by whitewash walls and beeping machines, Light spoke to no one, and made no eye contact whatsoever, complying only with the most patient of nurses' requests. He tooks shots without a single twitch of nervous anticipation, without one eye trained on the needle, without shutting his eyes closed against the horrid prick. He was cold, and without expression. Lifeless. Still, without L's knowledge, he had taken some interest in watching his own heartbeats flicker along the monitor, quickly establishing the relationship between the jagged lines on the screen with the monotonous beeps, then connecting those to the rhythm he heard when he cupped his ears, or the rhythm he felt when the doctor placed a large black band around his arm and applied endless pressure. His heartbeat was a constant fascination -- he seemed transfixed by the idea of a machine tracking his most personal internal mechanism, and without fail. When hospital personnel left his room, Light would often toy with the instrument, immediately turning off the TV kindly turned on for him to experiment with the monitor. He would tap his fingers against his sides, creating a minute change only noticeable to him. He would then raise his arms into the air, tracing large, voluptuous circles into the air, and smiling when the monitor responded in accordance. Light was careful, however, not to allow the monitor to beep above a certain pace, for he had learned through experience that such an endeavor would bring a horde of nurses and his doctor sprinting into the room, which was really such a bother. So, the teen preferred to create sweeping movements until the jagged lines came to a certain frequency of occurrence, then he would lie down abruptly, becoming as still as possible, his eyes gleaming in delight as the machine slowed the tones back down to a legato pace. Soon, the lines would become blurred, the beeps more anonymous, and the monitor a simple object in his mind that became all-encompassing as he fell asleep.

-

At first, Light came by sporadically throughout the day with his father, but now was at headquarters full time through the day. The convalescent seemed somewhat at ease in the investigation room now more than ever; he no longer shied away from the other members of the team, but rather ignored them, preferring instead to keep well out of their way. L continued the same gesture as before, since it had worked so well -- he veru much liked to see the look of patient satisfaction on Soichiro's face when his son's eyes sparked at the sight of a truffle. The detective hummed curtly to himself, glancing about the expansive room. A few members of the team had gone off to other parts of the building pursuing leads; only Aizawa and Mogi remained, conversing quietly in one corner of the room. The slight man turned his doelike eyes to the room's opposite side, and nearly laughed at loud at what he saw. Light was gazing outside the tinted window, his teenage face pressed to the glass with both his hands framing it so as to afford a clearer view. L brought his thumb to his lips, utterly bemused. This odd disease was turning tragedy to comedy at an alarming rate. Shaking his head in disbelief at his lack of conduct, he blindly reached for his plate of sweets next to his computer. His long fingers struck not pastry, but merely porcelain. His head snapped to follow the path of his hand, eyebrows raising in surprise. Had this..._ever_ happened before? L sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and pouting childishly. This was just about as pleasing as being burned at the stake. Or guillotined. Yet, what was worse than these unfathomable fates was the craving he could feel nipping at the pit of his existence. His expression turned sour as he tried voraciously to put the hunger out of his mind. Turning to his computer, he resolved to decipher the final files of a folder sent to him by his colleagues, yet it was to no avail. His vision had begun to cloud erratically and his frenzied thoughts against sweet foods soon overcame any desire he may have had to work. Casting shady sidelong glances about the room, L attempted to compose his demeanor, plucking a folder from a stack so as to appear purposeful. He tapped quietly across the room, making a beeline for the door. A timid voice stopped him, "Ryuuzaki-san, are you going to speak with Watari?"

L's head cocked rigidly as he glanced dully at the voice's source. Matsuda...! "Yes, that was my intention..." His subordinate's eyes cast downward; he appeared irresolute as he said, "C-cause that's the folder I just came back from showing him..." Embarrassment flickered through the head detective's cheeks before he donned a grand façade, flipping through the folder's pages and making a hurried excuse for himself -- "Yes, w-well, I made a conclusion that...that _you _likely would have missed." Matsuda's face fell upon seeing Aizawa nearly fidgeting with suppressed laughter. L mentally winced. Maybe that was a bit harsh. No matter. What was certain was that he was not in a sound mental state. That made up for it. Right? No room for contention right now...

He resisted the urge to sprint upon closing the door behind him; after all, cameras were everywhere, watching his every twitch and tick. His thoughts streamed together into one chaotic continuum as the hallway lengthened in front of him. A series of two soft clicks shattered this gaping void, causing him to whip sharply about. There stood Light, one hand still on the door, pondering whether or not to flee the crazy rabid man down the hallway. "Oh, it's you, Light." His crave forgotten for just a moment, L gave a sheepish wave, mentally kicking himself for what antics Light may have seen. "I was just going to see Watari for a very important matter concerning truffles," Light's face changed dynamic at the sound of the two beloved syllables, "if you'd like to come along..."A characteristic wary haze fell back over light, yet he began to follow L, taking small, shuffling steps that were worlds away from his former, confident swagger. The teen followed at a distance, keeping a constant pace behind L in case he had a rabid relapse of his previous behavior. Indeed, L's eyes soon became wild again just as he reached the door he sought; he burst into Watari's room, flooding the electronically lit room with yellow hallway light. Without facing him or even looking up, Watari wrote notes with his right hand and pointed with his left to a corner of the room where an emergency tray of goodies awaited the detective. L darted to the table, snatching up what first appealed to his senses and shoving it into his mouth without any of the usual pomp and circumstance. With Watari, it was entirely unnecessary. Watari understood the ins and outs of L's psyche, and thus was unperturbed by this behavior. Light crept silently in behind L, shutting the door as he had learned to do from watching other people. Thoroughly pleased with just doing this, he remained by the door, patiently watching as L finished the tart, his pace ever slowing. A visible weight lifted from the detective's shoulders as he turned about, truffle in hand. At once familiar with this ritual, Light gleefully accepted the treat from L's hand, munching on it neatly.

By this point, Watari's chair had swiveled to face the pair, a small smile playing his features as he watched their interaction. L cleared his throat, gesturing to the folder in his hands. "This was my excuse this time. Not quite as foolproof -- it appears that Matsuda has already been to see you with this? Has he discovered anything of worth?" Watari laughed lightly. "Of course not. He brought me the exact same one just a week ago. It's a hot ticket for my office lately, or so it seems." L nodded in understanding. Classic Matsuda. A scone in one hand and half a truffle in the other, L mosied over to Watari, taking a glance at his screen. Watari blinked up at him from behind his spectacles, "I was just about to ask you about this, Ryuuzaki -- it appears that my computer won't reboot...itself..." His speech tapered when he noticed Light's silent pattering towards the computer. Both detectives were silenced as Light stared at the screen. L spoke up, "...Light?"

Light's coppery eyes flicked up to meet L's for a split second, then returned to the screen. He looked down at the keyboard, analyzing it's symbols before purposefully striking a set of keys. The screen went black, and a matrix of green script replaced Watari's desktop. Both men blinked, watching Light's actions with keen interest. Light struck a few more keys when a dialog appeared, and sure enough, the characteristic Mac startup tone resounded before long. The teen nodded, apparently pleased with himself, and promptly returned to his post by the door. L observed the screen passively; a teacher admiring his pupil's work. Watari smiled brilliantly, congratulating Light heartily on his feat, which caused him to hide his reddened face. He added thanks in an aside to L as well.

After speaking with Watari for a short while, L gathered up a plate of his favorite sweets, amended naturally by Light's favorite brand of truffle. They soon left together, Light following at a closer pace, drawn in by the inherent allure of a truffle's wrapping. L turned his focus back to him, unable to force back a calm smile as an idea formed itself. "Some time, we'll go to the candy store down the street. There are a lot of truffles there -- would you like that?" Light blinked furiously at the sudden question, but nodded brightly. Thus resolved, L faced forward. He could sense at once that he very much preferred this side of Light. Why was it that his personality had to be cast into an entirely different mold? That...of a murderer? The detective sighed. Fortunately, Light was largely harmless at this point...which did, in fact, confirm the existence of a second Kira. His disease had not hindered, but progressed their investigation. Ah, karma.

L glanced upward to the hallway's gaping ceiling. He couldn't take this time for granted, that was for sure. The detective had often thought that Light was a vibrant, engaging person, as evidenced by an intellect that rivaled his own before he was injured. Yet, there was a good deal that he appreciated about his new demeanor. Light certainly had retained his intellect, yet he showed it in a far different manner -- he was humble as opposed to proud, shy instead of ostentatious. Day and night. Life and death.

...he would have to keep an eye on this one.


	4. Glow

Ah, afternoon sunlight. Hard to think of anything better, correct? As if sunlight could beat artificial light. What could a lightbulb do that the sun couldn't? The detective toyed with these ideas nonchalantly as he stepped out of the grandiose building and into the surrounding world, his hunch becoming somewhat more pronounced as his level of acute alertness increased exponentially. If there was one thing he hated, it was frolicking about in public places, although it was hard to call his extremely dignified shuffle a frolic. Nevertheless, the outdoors contained endless dangers - an assassin could easily hide in the thick of that bush over there, or in that tree to the west. The lapels on that man's jacket could have a camera that would record his face...something that could not be possibly allowed to happen.

Already, L felt extremely anxious about his promise to Light. Many, many pairs of eyes were trained skeptically on his frame; hushed comments were traded between companions as they observed him critically. The detective gulped, feeling vulnerable and utterly exposed. There was no way the slight man could set foot out in public unless his face was properly hidden; therefore, L had donned a mask - a very simple, yet ghoulish white mask that covered the entirety of his face into a cast of unfeeling emotion. L snorted at this train of thought, startling some people who had been watching a tad too intently. Many times in the past, he had been told that it did not matter whether or not he wore a mask - the effect was the same either way.

His colleagues had often given him grief about his lack of passionate interest in his work, or his lack of enthusiasm for the task at hand. But who could be passionate about uncovering every staggering detail of a brutal murder; that of an innocent child, or an old woman? Who had boundless enthusiasm for watching horrific security tapes of these incidents? No, why L stood a head above the others was exactly what they disliked the most about him. L _didn't_ care as much as his colleagues, and this made it far easier for L to analyze situations analytically, without overlying emotion in the way, without the comparison of personal experience. It was this trait that kept L in his position for so long. Other detectives in this field often couldn't take any more emotional turmoil - they tired of blood and gore easily, and retired from the profession altogether. The raven haired man found it pathetic and borderline ridiculous that one would give up a promising, lucrative career just because of his feelings. L, on the other hand, had been groomed from a very young age to be cold, unfeeling, and purely intellectual when it came to matters of his career, and even of his own heart. That certainly couldn't change now, could it?

He felt a sudden, urgent tug on the cuff of his sleeve, and glanced to his left to see Light watching him patiently, waiting for him to make any sort of movement. L took a cursory glance around him, observing that many of the people from before were so enthralled by his plain mask that they took up seats in his immediate vicinity. What was this, a sideshow? The detective was _just_ a man in a mask in the afternoon sunlight downtown. Nothing too odd about that, was there? No. No, of course there wasn't. Thus resolved, L began to take great strides; essentially, his feet did not shuffle along the pavement, for they instead took light, yet hurried steps toward their destination. Light followed diligently, taking in his surroundings with an air of wonder and awe. His bronzed eyes couldn't seem to focus on one object for too many seconds at once; they switched direction constantly, from a flock of pigeons taking wing, to a park fountain, to a pair of lovers walking hand in hand.

This, especially, attracted Light's attention. He stopped in his footsteps, admiring the glow that shone from their contented faces as they looked at each other. The teen was utterly transfixed for a few moments before he realized that he was alone; the kind, truffle-supplying black haired man was nowhere to be seen. People swarmed about Light, their gazes unflinchingly looking straight ahead, not one passing a glance his way. Light's eyes widened in despair as he turned about in tightening circles, searching for the wild mess that was the other man's hair. Soon, he began to move forward in a sort of path, dodging as much contact as he could with other people. His breathing quickened as his jaw slackened, causing the boy to gape erratically like a fish without water; his muscles tensed without end as he continued to search for L. He was just about to round a corner when a lithe hand shot through the masses of people, latching onto Light's arm like a vice. Light's eyes blazed with fear as he rounded about on the man.

It was...it was him. It was L. The detective's round eyes beneath his mask had a look of panic clearly engraved into them; he, too, breathed heavily as he tried to regain his composure. "Ah, Light...I had...I had no idea where you had gone! Please tell me if you plan to observe your environment..." L decided to cut his usual formalities before continuing, "Just stay with me, alright?" The teen, instantly comforted by the man's distinct diction, nodded slowly, eyes shining with the beginnings of tears that would have easily shed had L not found him just then. "Come along now; it's not much farther. Just down this way..." L continued in the direction that Light had been heading originally, this time keeping a guarded, slow pace. The auburn haired boy tried very hard not to breathe the sheer _life_ of everything that buzzed about him, instead focusing on L. This practice soon became boring, though, so Light's mind came up with the most logical solution based on everything his mind had learned thus far into his disease.

Light sped his pace a few steps, soundlessly slipping his hand into L's so as not to lose sight of him again, and continued about his observation, for, to Light's mind, nothing was more fascinating than a world he knew nothing about. L's skin pricked as he stared, thunderstruck, at the hand that held his before looking meekly back up at Light, who still glanced about with abandon. The detective blinked wonderingly; they must be even more of a spectacle now. Ah, yes - look at those two over there, the pair of fags, one masked and hunched, the other looking everywhere around him like a common imbecile, we must laugh at them...! Again, L was never one to care much. It was unlikely that he would ever see any of these people again...besides, they would never know his face. Shrugging it off, L started up his pace again, darting into the candy shop with his fingers still intwined in Light's.

The local shop gleamed in all directions - its counters were buffed gold, displaying a wide assortment of sweets and pastries. It was a homely space, with just one buxom woman working behind the counter, ringing up what appeared to be a pair of eclairs for a smiling businessman. L's hand was dropped almost instantaneously in favor of the attractive, glassy display in front of the cash register. The other man left shortly, scrutinizing his watch as he halved one eclair and chewed it blissfully. A small bell chimed to announce his exit, and the shop was quiet. It's keeper smiled heartily from behind the counter, watching every movement Light made with a guarded expression. Her large, dark eyes flicked nervously up to L's masked face every so often before she returned to her more obvious customer. The teen continued to peruse the store, looking at the shelves of decadent coffee beans for a few moments before stepping lithely back over to the glass display. Growing somewhat impatient with the passage of time, the woman offered to aid Light in his selection, causing him to immediately freeze, startled by the sudden burst of sound in the silent space.

The shopkeeper rubbed the back of her neck anxiously, "Sorry, if-if I upset him..." she trailed off, confirming a nagging suspicion that the young man was somewhat unstable in mind. Then again, what could she say for the interesting fellow with the mask? L mustered up a reassuring smile, translating it more visibly into a light shrug. "Quite fine. Now then, I'd like one of each type of truffle behind the glass." The woman's smile returned as she busied herself wrapping the chocolate spheres. Light's innate curiosity bubbled forth once more; he stepped forward to receive the bundle. The bell jingled as the young couple from before stepped in; they both glanced up at the chalked menu directly behind the woman, whispering of hot chocolate and vandermint squares. L's companion eyed them shyly, his memory taking on a swift spark as he recognized their hands still clasped together. The detective noted this indifferently - in this state, the teen seemed to react to people's actions and their ways of interacting with one another. He learned visually, understanding the complex web of human behavior only through exposure.

Light had become aware of only gestures; which were meant as affection, as authority, as kindness, and as malice. An outstretched hand filled with chocolate was a kind gesture, while, of course, one should stay away from a sweet-deprived madman. L pursed his lips as he took in Light's _modus operandi; _the younger man's eyes were still trained on the point of contact between the lovers' hands as he bit through the shell of a truffle. It still amazed L that a rap to the back of the head could cause such a transformation. Light had no concern any longer for faces, or backgrounds, or differences, or standing, or...names...

L stopped himself, rolling his eyes. _There I go again, _he thought blankly. The detective stepped forward, placing a hand on Light's shoulder and whispering to him that they ought to leave before it got late. The younger man nodded emphatically, a fresh pink flushing through his cheeks. The bell above the door jingled neatly as they stepped out. The woman from Light's couple offered him a tiny wave, which he responded to with a much bigger wave. Her laugh made him smile hugely; L couldn't help but wonder if Light could have ever been this way without his injury; if he ever could have been so...human.

The odd pair strode boldy through the thinning crowds of impending twilight, their hands lazily twined as before. The sun's waning light cast a fiery orange glow on businessmen hurrying home to their dinners and varying vendors packing their stands for the day. They were not two blocks from the investigation complex when L's phone began to buzz furiously in his pocket. Noticing L jump in surprise, Light reached into his pocket and plucked the phone out for him, delighting when it buzzed and watching it carefully in between as he held it in his palm. L smiled, taking the phone from him and answering it under his alias.

"Ryuuzaki."

"Ryuuzaki, please, you must bring Light back to base immediately. Where are you now?"

The detective's eyes widened. Soichiro Yagami.

"Yagami-san, what has happened?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation on the other end of the line before the man spoke again, "Get here as soon as you can." A dial tone followed. He had hung up.

L's skin pricked. This could not be good. Light studied his mask carefully, trying to discern emotion. His companion had become suddenly very rigid, and they had picked up their pace considerably. The teen knew not what to expect as they rushed up flights of stairs to the investigation room. As soon as they arrived, Soichiro took L aside, talking to him in a serious, measured tone. Light watched them from some distance, tentatively chewing a truffle. He didn't know what was going on, but somehow he knew it had something to do with him.

As he tried to make sense of the situation, L clenched his teeth in frustration. Soichiro was once again desperate to figure out his son's predicament, as it seemed that recent blood tests revealed something no one had ever wanted to hear. His perpetually large eyes stared pleadingly as he combed his hand through his unruly hair. It was back to the hospital for Light.

As Soichiro continued with his explanations, L took some time to glance sideways at Light, who appeared discontent despite the chocolate that had rubbed off on the sides of his face. The man smiled bleakly, wishing he could scheme the teen's future, freezing him in this beautifully strange manner.

But that task, L knew, lay to a group of nameless, faceless white coats, tile floors, and disinfectant. His future, it seemed, rested in their scrubbed hands.


	5. Spectrum

Greetings, old sports! [Yes, I've got Gatsby on the brain. Can anyone guess my ship? xD]

Okay, so maybe my summer hasn't been as chock full of writing as I may have hoped. I've been traveling, and sleeping, and doing chores and...well, writing gets pushed to the back of my brain pretty easily. Plus I have my two jobs to work. I won't make any more promises, because we all know how good I am at those, BUT I know from experience that the stimulating experience that is my schooling will help the creative juices flow!

One of my jobs was volunteer work at a hospital, so I've learned a lot about how one is run and the different kinds of procedures that take place. Regardless, I'm no MD, so if something medical is just SO, SO WRONG and you're qualified to correct me, feel free to do so! I have done some research into more complex diagnostics...but whatever.

Do enjoy. Here is Chapter Five, Spectrum.

--

L had never been one to keep up a fast pace when he needed to.

Without any concern for L, and rightly so, Soichiro stamped firmly ahead, constantly looking back at Light, who followed him brightly like a hound dog after its master, and just as blissfully ignorant. They disappeared into the main entrance, leaving L to his own designs. He watched them go, quietly formulating his own plan to find them later, and turned his head skyward. A misty cloud cover and accompanying fog had began to cling to everything it shrouded. The scalded earth, reminiscent of the day's heat, gave off steam, adding to the eerie mists. A mourning dove cooed softly in a fir tree, and L regarded the pointed culmination of its tail with some wonderment. He had forgotten his mask at headquarters, but that was at the farthest corners of his mind at the moment. The dove cocked its head to the side, scrutinizing him with a sharp, beady eye. This was a hospital, after all. People were too wrapped up in their own illnesses and injuries and worries and concerns to think twice about which stranger's face belonged to which illustrious name.

The detective scraped a thumbnail against the pads of his other four fingers, wondering why he was still rooted to the spot. Doctors and nurses strode swiftly past him, eager to be home after a trying day in the microcosmic world of the hospital. None gave L a passing glance, which wasn't entirely unusual. Even if he hadn't been trying to appear inconspicuous, he had the occasional advantage of constantly being so. But enough of this. He was here for Light, not to ponder his own existence endlessly, as he was often prone to do as the night waned and a new day began.

Trying to feign an air of urgent importance like the professionals who rushed about, L slipped into the stairwell, preferring the echoing staircase to the cramped, stifling elevators. What remained of his sense of direction in the building from last time guided him to the correct floor. He pushed through the stocky fire door, catching sight of a conflicted Soichiro talking to a pair of doctors. Light, not far off, was gesturing animatedly with a pencil to a young intern, who nodded encouragingly, darting curt glances at the doctors when Light was preoccupied.

After making sure that Sochiro was aware of his presence, L took up a reclining position against a wall of wheelchairs. The medics talked in tandem, each restating what the other had said before elaborating so as to have the favorable upper hand. Rivalry, it seemed, was not selective to the investigative industry. The detective looked to the nurses' station, noting Light sitting beneath the counter, rolling the pencil back and forth between his palms on the spotless, tiled floor. His own rival, once the most interesting and complicated man he had ever come across in his expansive career, now played with a pencil on the floor. It was exactly as Don Henley had said -- everything can change in a New York minute.

With abrupt finality, the doctors strode off, snapping quietly at one another once they reached the elevators. Seeing his father's apparent discord, Light leaped up from the floor, latching onto his sleeve with a questioning expression. L walked over to stand by Soichiro, waiting patiently for the verdict of Light's future to drop like a hammer. Light took L's sleeve with his other hand, momentarily satisfied that he could show affection for both of the central figures to his current existence.

Soichiro placed a hand on Light's back, sighing heavily. "Ryuuzaki," he began. "Those two doctors are the best in their field, or so they claim. Light's blood tests involved a relatively new procedure that is specific to the diagnosis of horosphyxia, and the tests show that he is much more prone to relapses than a normal patient." The older man recounted the information stoically and without much emotion, a practiced technique from many years in his field. He squeezed Light's shoulder before continuing. "This puts him at risk of permanently...being this way," he deadpanned, looking at Light. The teen smiled goofily, reaching for Soichiro's glasses. He looked away, refusing him. Light's face fell, causing an obligatory rope to constrict around L's chest. He could only be described as...what was the word...adorable? Certainly.

The police chief cleared his throat to regain L's attention. "I ought to go home and tell my family...news like this will not be well received over the phone. If I don't come back...well, what I mean to say is...will you...?" The detective merely nodded. "Of course, Yagami-san." Soichiro rubbed absently at his neck. "Thank you."

L watched the chief stride towards the elevators, utterly defeated in posture. An elevator chimed in accordance to his press of the button, and he stepped quietly inside, turning about to face L and offer a half-hearted salute. The detective found it completely unbelievable that this man could keep such composure for so long-- granted, the man was cheif of police and dealt with less than comfortable situations daily, but when confronted with his own son?

Just as this thought crossed his mind, the twin doors of the elevator began to slide closed. L stole one last glimpse of the stone-solid man. Just before disappearing from view, the rock that Soichiro had become...

shattered.

The elevator closed.

--

Nighttime in a hospital was surely, surely a harrowing environment. The bustling, bright city below, with warm sunlight gleaming off the sides of the glossy buildings and hopelessly bottlenecked cars was as welcome a respite as any to look at for anxious families who set up camp in the waiting areas near the windows. But once the sun descended, their inner demons emerged-- minds became plagued with imponderable questions of "What if?" and "Why them?" and silent cries were sent to whatever higher being lay beyond and above the thick, dark glass and the shadowed night. The general change in mood was also felt in the patients themselves-- when daylight ended, so did, inevitably, visiting hours, and their families and friends left for the day, replaced by tired nurses who smiled only when looked at. The invalids were left to their own devices as well; no pun intended.

One nurse who, on first impression, appeared to have the same battle with insomnia as L, tried to shoo him out with the other visitors, but, with some characteristic quick thinking and a dramatic performance by the detective, she soon just gave up and retreated behind the nurse's desk. L drew his mouth into a thin, hard line. Maybe that wasn't necessary. She had had a rough day too, no doubt. Ah well. The desired effect had been accomplished and he wouldn't have to miserably let Soichiro down--the last thing the older man could possibly have needed or handled.

The dark haired man shuffled over to the windows, peering down inquisitively as people poured out from a movie theater across the street. It was an interesting concept-- putting a movie theater beside a hospital. Oh, your husband's in heart surgery? Not a problem-- go catch a flick and come back later. Immerse yourself in their fictional, silver screen and forget about life for a while. Not a bad idea. Must have been one clever chain of cinema.

He turned about to face the shadowy hallway. Light's room was to his immediate left if he took a few paces forward, and he could hear the tattoo of many heartbeats recorded by their monitors from various open doors down the hall. One of them, indiscernible from the others, suddenly sped violently. The hair on the back of L's neck stood on end. Light?

L darted into his charge's room just as the beeps slowed. Light watched him with large, glossy, questioning eyes, completely innocent as the numbers on the machine at his bedside slowly decreased. The detective, puzzled, opted to question him, "Are you...alright, Light?" The teen nodded reassuringly, smiling brightly at the small man as his heart returned to a normal rhythm. L ran a hand through his unruly hair, "If you say so. I'll be right back." Time to observe.

He stepped outside the door then, waiting on the threshold and listening intently to Light's heartbeat out of sight. Sure enough, the minute blips sped once more. L slipped quietly back into the room, edging along the door to the large bathroom, hoping that a nurse wouldn't stride past and question his intentions. Along the edge of the wall was a flimsy, light pink curtain that swiveled around on a curve to shadow Light's bed-- it was currently drawn back just enough for L to peer around it without being seen. He blinked in surprise at what he saw.

What...what was Light..._doing_?! His auburn hair stuck to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat as he flung his arms about, delighting in the speed at which the machine recorded his most vital of organs. L brought a thumb to his lips. That was much too fast, any second now a nurse would come flying into the room and he would be shooed out and Light would be left alone in this hellish white room and--

Just before the monitor would have sounded the alarm, Light abruptly quit his movements, laying very still and trying to regulate his breathing as best he could. The numbers dwindled slowly, slowly, and Light sighed a pleasant sigh of contentment. Well, well, well. This was certainly an interesting improvement-- from taking pleasure in the murders of criminals to finding joy in your own heartbeat. Seeing happiness in simply knowing you were alive, that blood ran through your veins, that thoughts ran through your head.

The tips of L's fingers tingled. The teen knew more about the world and how to go about living in it as a child than he ever would at his current age or as an adult. The more he saw, the less he knew. As children, we view the world as if through a kaleidoscope-- unhindered, central, in patterns, in bright colors and hues that take on pleasing new shapes as the world turns. The detective's breath caught in his throat. If Light really did remain this way...forever...would the world be all so bad? Children...children are forced to grow up much too fast now. The kaleidoscope's rainbows fade to simple black and white, the engaging patterns melt into squares and looping circles, and the glass fractures. L supposed he could understand why some parents chose not to educate their children in schools; in a way, it did stunt their creativity. Yet, still, an education did allow a child the chance to recolor the beads inside their scopes-- to color them the way they choose, and to rediscover what it meant to live a wonderful life in every shade of the spectrum.

Poking one half of his face around the curtain, L noted that Light was entirely unresponsive to his presence. His breathing had become even, and his chest rose and fell steadily. The monitor, ever a constant companion, beeped obligingly at a far slower pace. The detective moved quietly to Light's bedside, plucking at the folds of his comforter delicately and replacing it on Light's chest from where it had been flung earlier. The boy had broken out in a sweat after all-- he may catch a cold. Who knows what's floating around; it is a hospital, after all.

L curled his feet beneath him in an adjacent chair, watching Light sleep idly. The very definition of keeping an eye on someone-- a task he could win the gold at, seeing as he hardly ever slept anyhow. Then again...when was the last time he...

Sleep claimed him like a vice, gripping his extremities and creeping along his spine before his head fell slack onto his cradled knees. In the darkest hour of night, Light blearily opened his eyes. His foggy mind registered a shape in the chair next to his bed, conjuring the ghost of a smile to fall on his lips. His eyes blinked slowly, still heavy with sleep that quickly began to catch up to him once more. Those eyes-- those eyes flecked with gold, scarlet, auburn, every color of an autumn leaf and the pond it drifts upon. Reds, oranges, yellows; like colored glass in a kaleidoscope.


	6. Contagious

Hey, guys! I'm trying to get chapters up faster and faster, but my viewpoint on where the story is headed has only an ending-- I don't know quite what to do with the inbetween! The second that gets sorted out, I promise I'll write more quickly. I'm swimming this winter and have another play in production, which takes up at least two hours every day after school, plus homework...but that's totally not an excuse. :c Don't hurt me and I'll give you cookies! =D

Thanks, as always, for the alerts, favorites, and life-fueling reviews! They're extremely motivating -- thanks for all your support! c:

I am pleased to introduce Chapter 6 of Childhood -- Contagious.

--

Dawn.

The hospital stirred to life again; demons of the mind hissed back under couches and into shadows, slinking out doors and around corners, and, for a brief instant, hope returned, stealing up corridors and down hallways, across elevator shafts, into rooms, and into hearts.

Bewildered night clerks were relived of their positions, and they staggered home wearily, happy to return to a long-awaited sleep though their internal clocks had become nocturnal long before. L shuffled neatly into the hallway, flexing his wrists and fluttering his fingers. He had slept last night. In Light's room. It was a peculiar thought to him that he could wake so rested and content, though he slept in a position reminiscent of a curled armadillo. No one else could. No other humans, that is. They would wake up sore, rubbing their backs and cursing aloud. L smiled faintly. Perhaps he had armadillo genes.

The detective peered over the balcony at the edge of the unit, casting a glance over the escalators, which hummed with life, connecting two floors far beneath him. Already, families with balloons tied tothe wheelchairs of their beloved were being shipped out the door from the discharge unit. He remarked on the floor he was on-- marked by silence, colorless, urbane. It seemed that happiness and light dissolved as you climbed the hospital floors. L noted a map of the hospital pinned to a wall, glossed over by glass.

Bottom Floor. Discharge/Information/McDonald's.

He brought a finger to his lips, bemused. McDonald's. In a hospital.

Tenth Floor. Exit to Roof/Diagnostics.

Where Light was. The top floor. Diagnostics.

His mirth faded. How unfair that Light was not allowed to move down a few floors in his entire stint at the hospital. Everyone else did, right? They figured out what was amiss on the tenth floor, then sent you through a sorting hat down to whatever floor was your fate. But horosphyxia, he supposed, was a different matter entirely. Apparently, the entire medical staff was abuzz with the news that this unfamiliar, interesting, beautiful mess had walked into their hospital, just begging to be poked and prodded and tested and _observed. _The slight man thought it _moronic_ that these people could be so unfeeling. Couldn't they see? See that his first name at last bespoke him? The glow of his face? The beauty through his unspoken language? In a perfect world, Light wouldn't be called diseased. But in this life, Light had become different. Different. Like himself. Examined. As he had been.

L blinked.

--

Incidentally, it had been Light's turn to be rolled out in a wheelchair that morning. Soichiro and Light's family arrived to take him home, all of them smiling and wondrously joyful that hope had been returned to them. That their beloved one would recover...! L grinned in spite of himself, quietly hiding the simper beneath a curtain of black hair. Light's expression mirrored that of his family-- he was _elated. _Even without sound, Light's being exuded song, dance, smiles, laughter, friendship, love. The detective watched as Light waved gleefully to a group of construction workers across the dank street. Smiles infected their rugged faces as they raised their hands in acknowledgement.

Contagious usually has a negative connotation. Related to disease, illness, bacteria, viruses, and the like. Fitting for a hospital. Still, whereas Light's secular illness was not contagious, the ethereal warmth of his smile...was. It seemed that this kind of disease was deadly and quick to strike-- already an entire family and a select, lucky few of the hospital's personnel had been infected in the space of mere minutes. If given the chance, smiles could infect worldwide. And from one glowing source.

L shoved his hands into his pockets. Funny how things work that way. He could see, now, why it was considered better to keep a positive state of being throughout life. It sure seemed to get you farther faster. Disease creeps slowly, with a staggering vengeance, yet a smile bounces from one face to another, ricocheting across rooms, down streets, continuously searching for a new face to find a reflection in.

Soichiro's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Even from the back seat, where he sat beside Light, L could tell the older man was anything but at ease. The detective narrowed his eyes somewhat, tilting his head slightly so as to scrutinize him discreetly. Soichiro was definitely not secure in thinking that Light would recover. The building blocks already had a shaky foundation; Light had already gone back to the hospital once, who says he won't go back again? Who says he won't stay that way forever, trapped in a mindset his father had spent years trying so hard to understand, yet had never succeeded? L knew that this sort of twisted frame of mind was the last thing to drown oneself in if one wanted to retain positivity, but in Soichiro's case, with a dark history as a method to the madness, L could see that it likely could not be helped.

The auburn haired teen suddenly prodded at L's hand delicately, picking it up so as to secure his attention as he pointed outside to a farmer's market. Light mashed the window button, seemingly twitching with impatience as it gently rolled down. He stuck his face out the window, waving to the merchants at their stalls and inhaling the fragrant air in deep, refreshing gulps. Merchants and customers alike gave him the benefit of at least a smile, some waving back and chuckling at his enthusiasm. L's hair teased his cheeks as a result of incoming air; he, too, breathed deeply and caught the scent of bread. Light turned back to him, fragments of sunlight bleaching his forehead and eyelashes as he smiled, flushed, and happy.

L smiled back at him, knowing he had been infected too. As they say, some people can kill with a smile. At this rate, the world could be dead tomorrow. And what a glorious reincarnation would happen then.

--

The appalling routine kicked back into gear, and L's internal clock reacquainted itself with the rhythm it had become desensitized to years before. That is, if rhythm meant a continuous cycle of waking up and...not going back to sleep. For as long as was humanly possible.

An article posted on the wall in the lobby of Diagnostics back at the hospital talked about how the light from computer screens disrupts melatonin, which regulates the body's sleep/wake cycles. This perfectly explained L's sleep/wake cycle...or lack thereof. He spent so much time in front of computers that he hardly ever slept at all. L let out a quiet hum that quickly descended in pitch. Another win for medicine.

The four numbers in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen indicated an extremely late hour. Or rather, an extremely early hour? Nevertheless, the other detectives had long since retired, and only L and Light remained with Matsuda and Soichiro, the last of which who was gearing up to leave as well. Matsuda had expressed an unusual desire to work a short while longer; he tapped and clicked away at an alarming speed. Light was spread neatly on the couch, giving off an annoyed twitch as each loud tap shattered the fog of his grogginess. L swiveled around in his chair to check on him just as Soichiro left. There existed a mutual understanding that Light was essentially an extension of L, so he need not take his son with him as long as L remained.

Matsuda suddenly stood up and began to hastily shuffle folders around in an attempt to leave more quickly than he was capable. L kept quiet; what was the point of asking Matsuda anything anyhow? Half the time he was flustered, like now, and the other half was just spent in the background. The senior detective returned to his work with a sigh after Matsuda slammed the door shut. The sudden burst of noise jolted Light from any means of slumber, and, noting his favorite companion at the computers, decided to join him at a computer to his left. The one to his right, L noted, had taken on an appearance that was...anything but normal. Frustration rising, L peered at the screen. Black and white numbers scrolled across without end before the computer spontaneously shut down.

L released a very unamused hum. Figures.

The detective had been about to salvage whatever data he could when he heard typing from the computer to his left. Curious, L swiveled to see just what it was Light was doing. When he caught sight of the screen, anxiety coursed through him like an electric shock.

The teen was typing one word, rapidly, without spaces, indents, or punctuation.

Kira.


	7. Fury

Oh heyy there c: I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates...next time I write fanfic, I'm setting serious goals for myself! As always, thanks for your wonderful reviews and support. We aren't far from the end now! (I think?) It's kind of funny how I'm on spring break again starting this chapter. A year ago I was writing Chapter 2. Fail? Absolutely.

I give you -- Fury.

* * *

L stared, starstruck, and in complete disbelief.

Light had never shown any skill whatsoever with language in his new state -- he never spoke, of course, but he never showed the ability to read or write either. Analytical thinking soon took over as a harrowing conclusion rose to the forefront. L cringed as Light's typing continued. The teen's expression was anything but evil; curious, even, as continued to prod out the four letter word in quick succession. The detective's throat clenched.

He had been so sure, so confident with his evidence; so convinced toward the conclusion that only Light could be Kira...and here Light was, feeding him another dart on the board. This...this wasn't good.

Nothing could have disproved what he knew to be right. He had been blind to secondary theories, spurning them as if they were accusing kittens. But then, things changed. Light fell, and was…transformed. The teen had undergone a most peculiar metamorphosis; indeed, he had become a butterfly, flitting about in such a lovely manner and absorbing gleefully the adoration of a newly foreign world. L already knew he was irrevocably endeared to each intricacy and oddity that weaved together to form the enigma of Light's youth. It had become unavoidable; after all, he and Light were rarely separated now. His detective side was particularly pleased by the opportunity to analyze and filter each new piece of information as observed, of course. Yet beneath the obvious scrutiny in the name of the investigation, L found himself growing increasingly fond of Light with each passing day. The teen never disrupted his work, as he was not capable, really, shared his taste for sweets, and was simply content to share his company, something that Light's former self would have scorned, he was sure.

L regarded Light with a forlorn gaze, his mouth pulling into a twist. For the first time in his life, he found himself daring, no, hoping, to disprove his dominant theory about Kira's identity. L's eyes widened. How could he think something as ridiculous as…was his mind truly being overruled by his…by his heart? Was that even possible? His judgment was clouded now; he could hardly call himself a detective or an authority if his decisions were ruled by his emotions. All his life, he had been taught that his work was absolutely no place for emotion. Still, if he had his way now, Light would never be Kira.

L fiddled meekly with the hem of his jeans as it was fairly close to his hand. He was turning not only into a pathetic sap, but also a colossal hypocrite. Just what would he say now? Turn all the tables over, reconsider his entire premise in this investigation, just because he didn't _want_ Light to be a serial murderer? It was a bitterly selfish thought, to leave the fate of this investigation up to random impulses of his heart. The detective bit the inside of his cheek. Never had he been conflicted over any of his cases. All his life, detective work had involved nothing more than cold facts and a blindingly accurate conclusion. What had changed? When had his cold, painfully obvious reasoning been tinted a different color as if to blind him from what he knew to be truth?

He was roughly jolted from his indecision by Light's prodding at him with a folder. L hesitantly took the offering, which read "Kira" on the front in both Japanese and English. His companion, ever cheerful, pointed at the English word, then at the screen before mimicking L's position exactly, only his eyes peering out expectantly from above folded knees. Light's gaze sparkled, waiting for the approval and praise he sought constantly from the estranged detective. Speechless, L regarded the folder and the computer screen in turn, a smile slowly spreading through not only his face, but his body as well. Light shimmered with excitement as he watched his companion's approval rise as if it were a phoenix.

L neatly replaced the folder onto the desktop. Light was...just trying to make him happy...he was just typing the letters he saw on the folder. L marveled at how Light could be so much like a child in development, learning new skills, and trying to apply them with a cheerful abandon. He smiled warmly, dragging a hand through his hair as he laughed quietly. "Good job, Light," he said with relief.

The teen grinned shyly in response to his praise, color flushing through his cheeks. L couldn't help but laugh openly at the teen. Somehow, the auburn-haired teen had managed to drive him crazier without being able to speak than when he had had that ability. L felt...vibrant, and dynamic, and alive. L bit casually at his thumb; he _was_ turning into a sap after all.

Never one to crave the spotlight in his childlike state, Light slipped from his chair and took refuge on a neighboring couch, clutching a dark pillow close to his chest as he resumed his curious watch over L. Simple. The teen was infuriatingly simple, yet he managed to wreak more mental havoc on the detective by being simple than he ever had before his fall. L glanced upwards, releasing a long-suffering sigh before setting about shutting down his computer for the day. Er, night. Morning?

Once all electrical appliances had been suitably terminated, L swiveled about in his chair, yawning slightly before padding along the tiles toward the door, knowing that Light would follow immediately. Soichiro had truly given him full responsibility over the teen; just how it came to be that way, he was unsure. L blinked. Since when had he been a more significant figure in Light's life than his own father...? Or rather, had any significance at all? To...anyone?

The detective's pale hand came to rest on the doorknob as that thought crossed his mind. Darkness loomed powerfully around him as he suddenly became painfully aware of his subdued surroundings. It was as if the harrowing shades that haunted minds throughout the hospital reigned supreme in his own building. Here, in the heart of headquarters. In the recesses of his mind.

Skeletons shoved into the closet by the gleaming shards of a kaleidoscope threatened to burst forth and overwhelm the detective once more. He trembled, snatching his hand from the door's handle. What was wrong with him? When had emotional turmoil...no, emotional _nihilism_ become anything other than brutally _common_ for the small man to experience? Who had caused his confusion, his indecision, his resistance to his own principles?

He turned sharply about, large eyes raking the void of darkness for the answer he knew he would find just a few steps behind him.

Yet Light had not followed him after all.

With a sudden, unexplained twinge that made his skin crawl, L retraced his steps over to the couch, albeit with shaky steps. This was becoming nigh ridiculous. Losing his younger companion's presence even for those few instants had him shaken, not stirred.

L peered owlishly over the edge of the couch, his eyes falling on exactly what he had expected. Light was curled into the pillow's broader face, some of his hair spilling over the front as his regular breathing fell lightly on L's ears. What sleep he couldn't afford earlier, what with Matsuda's insatiably sporadic typing and every light possible on in the room, he now found relief in. L stood back, reflectively. For what seemed the first time in a long time, his options were obviously clear -- wake Light up so as to find a proper bed, or let him sleep here and risk Soichiro's disapproval. The detective's lips created a thin line. Though he was in chief of the operations here...he did have an obligation to Soichiro; a promise he had agreed to long ago. Which was basically to keep Light safe, in every sense of the phrase. Leaving him to sleep on the couch in the work room didn't qualify exactly...but then again, waking him from what could be pleasant dreams was not an attractive idea either.

Quickly finding what he thought to be a happy medium between the two, L turned back for the door, stealthily slipping through the crack as quickly as possible so as not to disturb his charge with the hallway light that burst through the opening. L had figured he would return some time later, so as to allow Light his sleep for some time at least, then relocate him upstairs before Soichiro caught wind. He knew as well as anyone that sleep was a precious commodity in such an environment; everyone involved here deserved as much as was possible.

A shock of sound reverberated off of the ceiling's angular faces once the steely door had closed. This part of the building was nothing short of impressive in the daylight, but at night, the space became amplified through moving shadows. L drummed his toes against the monotonous tiled floor. All of this had been created for the sole purpose of capturing Kira. Kira the psychopath, the killer, the murderous tyrant. Every hallway, every room, every tile on the cold, hard floor was built with that hope. L began to move forward, his steps quietly marked by the scuff of his jeans against the tiles, though his feet were altogether silent. With a reminder as colossal and physical as this headquarters, L wondered how it was possible to lose sight of his ultimate goal. What force on earth could possibly have the power to mold his thoughts in such a way; to such an illogical mode?

The detective stared ruefully up through the rafters, his teeth clenched. For once in his life, he felt sick of thinking, sick of analyzing, sick of trying to prove himself right, trying to prove everyone else wrong. He wasn't driven by dreams, or promises, or oaths, but his life revolved around his detective work, endless days putting criminals behind bars -- and without fail, too. Wouldn't it be nice to just...turn off, for a while? Like a computer. Like a machine. Simply turn off, and rest in an empty matrix until a surge of electricity sought to start you up again. L shifted his gaze to glance coolly at the floor. Many regarded him as a machine already. Working tirelessly day after day, with calculated precision not unlike a computer. Too bad someone couldn't shut him off for a while.

L glanced at the door he had closed in his peripheral vision, smiling softly. Well...at least he had been taught to log off for a while.

* * *

_He could only see. _

_Writing. Scribbling. Page after page of names, numbers, figures, places, times, people, men, women, causes, reasons, names, numbers; pen strokes in a black bound book, secrets that gripped likes vices, torturous smiling, devious grins-- the book snapped closed._

_He could only hear._

_Screams. Cries. Men, women, figures, people, fathers, mothers, children, friends; some clutched their chests, writhing in plagued agony, reaching for handholds, for their companions, or upwards, with some deranged, gasping hope of divine providence. Others, still others, many others, fallen, beaten, cracked, torn, broken, mutilated, slashed, ruptured, destroyed-- the people vanished._

_He could only feel._

_Laughter. Laughter. Syncopated staccatos of laughter, curling upwards in a deadly spiral from an unknown source, a demonic cacophony that overpowered conscious thought, growing ever louder, ever stronger, ever worse in its hellish tone, until it blazed through as sound, and materialized in sight._

_He could see. He could hear. He could feel. _

_Words._

_I._

_am._

* * *

Just as L reached the hallway's end, the sound of a crash exploded through his nervous system. The slight man whipped about, covering ground as quickly as was possible, and retracing his steps back to Light. Light. _Light._

L burst through the door, slamming it shut as he skidded into the room at an alarming pace. Furious pounding on the glass of the tall windows quickly drew his attention to the right. _Light_. The teen darted furiously about, colliding with everything in his short path, his mouth forming a gruesome twist as he struggled against a force L could not see. Flashes of light from the city streets below through the teen into harsh relief as he tore about the room, tears streaming from his eyes as he took deep, ragged breaths. The detective trembled, his eyes wide as his mind began to recover from shock and race with itself. This was his fault. Leaving Light alone...his fault. Letting Light wake up alone...his fault. Having to watch Light in pain..._no. _No!

"Light!" L cried hoarsely, still unable to move, out of fear, fear for them both. The sound of his own voice stirred him into action; the slight man took a few steps forward toward the teen, who seemed oblivious to his presence. "Light!" he tried again, this time with more force, more desperation. Light stumbled, allowing his frenzy pause as his head whipped about, searching brazenly for the voice which had called him.

"LIGHT!"

The teen's hazy auburn eyes shakily focused on L as his arms trembled in short bursts. Light's eyes made a staggering shift to meet L's. his right foot allowing a broken step towards him. Though his breathing was already labored from his frenzy, Light drew a profoundly rapid breath and ran to clutch L tightly about his waist, fists taking handfuls of the detective's shirt. Light's breathing hitched as his hysteria continued to rage, even growing more violent, something L hadn't anticipated now that he had put an end to Light's rampage.

Searching about the room desperately as though to find the means to an end, L was resigned to simply hold Light as best he could. He couldn't let Soichiro find out that Light was awake...and in the heart of headquarters, too! If Light didn't calm down soon... Biting his lip hard, L stared down at the top of the teen's head, which shook minutely as erratic breaths coursed from his mouth. Light's eyes alternated from being wide open and unfocused to shut tightly; his breathing consistently inconsistent, as if he were in cardiac arrest...

L's eyes widened. Cardiac...arrest...?

The detective knelt on the floor, an action which Light mimicked, whether out of necessity or habit, he couldn't tell. The sudden change of position startled Light; he stared wildly at L as if to ask endless desperate questions that couldn't have answers, hysteria rising to another peak. L's throat felt dry as he painfully became aware of the extent of Light's turmoil. What...happened? Why hadn't he _been_ there? To stop it? To stop everything...all of...

One of his arms, trembling with broken hope, reached slowly toward Light, his fingers resting lightly on the teen's neck as his thumb dispelled tears from Light's cheeks. The other arm soon followed suit, taking a firm hold of his shoulder. Light's breaths began to shudder, and his shoulder heaved under L's palm. Cardiac arrest. L's mouth pulled into a firm twist as both of his arms snapped to, pulling Light against the left side of his chest in a swift, desperate motion.

The side of Light's head collided with L's narrow torso unceremoniously, the teen's right ear finding due purchase between L's equally protruded collarbone and ribcage. Light's hands clutched brusquely at the tile floor before latching onto L's shirt; said detective stared directly ahead, focusing on a spot in the floor as if to make it catch fire. L could hear his own heartbeat pulsing through his fingertips and circling through his eardrums; he dared glance down at Light as his fingers tightened their hold on his charge's head.

Light's breathing began to slowly calm; his hands had progressed from their tight fists at L's sides to gentle complacency resting on L's chest. Light's position was evocative of one trying to eavesdrop through a heavy doorway; his eyes darted from left to right as he strained to listen ever more clearly. L could feel the muscles in Light's arms slowly become tense once more, and the teen's eyes regained a trace of the fury he had endeavored to alleviate.

Momentary fear coiled in his throat as he loosened his hold on Light, using one hand to tilt his face upward.

His hand dropped.

Where he had known dependence, L now felt a striking independence coming from his charge. Where he had grown used to bright, curious eyes, he now saw narrow, cunning gleams; albeit ones wide with confusion and shock.

L's breath hitched as he drew it; he found himself clenching his fists against the floor to resist the urge to move backward. Both men stared at one another, one desperate to know, the other desperate to disprove that which he knew.


End file.
